The Romantic Erotic Novel

Chapter 11 – Part 3, An Easy Kill

This is chapter 11, part 3 of the Pleasing María novel. If you are under 18 years of age, or are offended by explicit descriptions of sexual activity or violence, or by strong language, please exit this site immediately. To view the Table of Contents of the novel click here. To go directly to the first chapter, click here. To read the latest novel post, click here. This is a rough second draft.

Chapter 11 – Part 3, An Easy Kill

María tapered down her rampage through men, and the men she brought abused me less. But I felt María had become more detached from me. She seemed less animated, less interested in me than at any other time in our marriage. I didn’t understand why, our humiliation-based sex continued as intense as before, if less frequent.

I realized the mix of María’s lovers was changing – now she chose men as lovers that possessed more than great sexual technique. They were stronger personalities, more confident. In a rare moment of lucidity, I realized she chose men that might satisfy her as my replacement. These were men with the personal power, confidence, and willingness to destroy me as a man and take her, should they decide they wanted María badly enough. The control of the Castration Game passed back to her. The power was hers – I didn’t have any say in her choice of lovers.

However, since most of her lovers were married, I could still cause the men to jilt her by threatening them with exposure, if properly timed. The game had changed but I still had that modicum of control. I had let men get deeper with her for the past few months. It was much more erotic and intense for both of us, and I thought I’d keep playing it deep for the moment.

María and I discussed it, and she acknowledged she searched for my replacement. Now we explicitly recognized how the game had changed. Since we agreed years ago the only way I would be replaced was by my castration, we searched for the man that would go the next step, castrate me, and take her from me. We had arrived at the defining edge of the game and paused. Either we back away from the game here, or the next progression would be the destruction of my genitals and the loss of María.

I looked inside her eyes and Bunk let me see her homunculus for the first time, a figure like the Virgen de Zapopan. The virgin spoke to Bunk, told him he was a useless slut, unworthy of her, unworthy even of existence. Bunk had no rebuttal.

María deep-kissed me, deeper and stronger than I remembered. It was the kiss of deep love. I felt it at that moment – María had decided to go all the way. And she was determined to win. She was going to crush me, kick me to the gutter, and drive the boot of her chosen lover into my testicles. She was going to destroy and abandon me. She had decided, and at that same moment, I resolved I would fight and win. But I accepted if I lost, I would be destroyed. She withdrew from the kiss and looked into me again, saw my acceptance, and we had a contract. The Castration Game was on, and on to the finish.

It exhilarated us to live right on that edge – days and weeks stretched out with men and more men. Would any of those men ever dare to cross that edge and win María? We didn’t know, but we loved the suspense and danger. Our plans for the wedding faded away, it made no sense to her since her goal was to replace me.

All we needed was that special lover, someone who was equal to her stature. María increased her overnights and multi-nights trips, now searching in serious for her next man. Meanwhile, she increased my torment, weakening me, crippling me, so when that special man arrived, I would be an easy kill. I tried harder to make her beautiful for her lovers, and our sex evolved into new intensities. I made love to her each time like it could be the last.

She referred to this man or that man as candidates for the ‘one’ – the one that would fight for her, would want her more than I, would crush my testicles and take her away. She said with certain men, she could visualize me laying on the floor, her special lover with one hand across my throat, and the other hand wrapped around my testicles, squeezing both the life and the sex out of me. She knelt over me also, her hands squeezing with his.

I put up a good front, but she knew me and she knew how I hurt. When she left to meet her lovers, I lay on the bed naked, squeezing my testicles, visualizing her lovers’ victory over the pathetic gringo. I wanted to win, to keep her, yet I wanted to be destroyed, castrated, tossed aside so I could admire them together, strolling embraced through the streets on Guanajuato. Despite my protestations of love and bravado, we both knew I would lose courage at the end. I would embrace total defeat and she knew it.

This went on for weeks as she fine-tuned my torment. I didn’t sleep well, I tried harder to please her, trying too hard, becoming the pathetic creature she detested. It was a self-fulfilling process, a downward spiral. She tried to break me, her husband, the man she loved, for a stupid, perverted game. We were caught up in the game and couldn’t see a way out, so we kept going.

María developed a routine for finding new men. She would go alone to the parks or coffee shops in the Presa barrio, or to the malls in León. When an interesting man hit on her, she gave him her phone number. She chose younger and older men, sometimes single or divorced, usually married. She told me the best men were married, and she was willing to break-up a marriage to get the right man. She’d meet them 2-3 times in a restaurant or café to decide if she should continue with them. I watched as they seduced her – they caressed her hands and face, rubbed her legs and hips under the tables, and flattered her relentlessly. When she decided for sexual contact, she’d flash them her lace panties in her INVITATION. Or she’d deep kiss them – a deep kiss by a married woman is a ‘yes’ answer to the unasked question. Then they’d visit a hotel in the Presa barrio 2-3 times. This is where her sexual expertise would hook them. Now they’d be sexually desperate for her. She discarded at least half the men at this stage for different reasons, usually sexual inadequacy or personality problems.

Half in jest, I accused her of cheating, for gratuitous sex. For those that made the cut, she’d tell them her story, about me, and get them used to the idea I’d be present at their sexual activities in our house. Sometimes the men would drop-out – they had ‘scored’ Guanajuato’s hottest woman, and they were content with their bragging rights. Some men left because they realized they approached their point-of-no-return, and they wouldn’t risk losing their families.

Their final test was how they handled me in the house. Men that were aroused and aroused her by humiliating me became the final candidates. If during the humiliation sessions, María and I both thought he was Mr. U&P (Unique & Perfect), I would signal her, and she would induce him to crush me to castration.

María thought she might get carried away in a sexual frenzy and choose the wrong man. She trusted my judgment and gave me this final say in selecting my replacement. I took this responsibility seriously, and not only because my testicles would be destroyed. I had internalized and accepted María would leave me some day for another man, and I wanted to make sure he really was her U&P. It would kill me if I lost my testicles for a bad choice.

We discussed her lovers, their personalities, their macho-ness, and bet on which one might want her badly enough to cross the edge. María had her preferences, but she never told me who they were. She had a vision of a man that would be both unique and perfect for her. Talking about him, the buzz saw cut through my groin, the black volcano twisted my body, painful yet exciting she may had already chosen the man to take my place. I thought of DeepThroat, and made her swear she would never incite my castration – the man would have to decide on his own.

It wasn’t that we were desperate to separate, we were just caught-up in the logical progression of the Castration Game. It took on its own life, logic, and momentum, and we kept going just to keep going – and for the sexual intensity. We abandoned our old rules without thinking. María bet one of her lovers would be the unique, perfect man for her, but she bet at no risk. If she found the man who wanted her more than me, who would fight for her and win, who would crush my testicles, she would watch calmly as he destroyed me, then discard me. Why would she want a man without testicles? I bet none of her lovers would cross the edge, but I bet with my testicles. Hardly a fair bet.

The risk for her lovers was minimal – they wallowed in her beauty and teasing and provocations to ravage her. They gave little except a few moments of intense sexual energy and risked nothing to enjoy the pleasure of her.

I bravely told her we would never find Mr. U&P. But she was sure it would happen. She told me, “When he appears, you’ll know it too, you’ll give him your balls and you’ll give me to him. You’ll do it for me, because you love me, because you know he’s better for me than you, because you love me. It will happen.”

But I argued the contrary, “No, you’re wrong. My love would for you will cause me to fight harder for you.”

We were once again satisfied with our sex life and relationship. It was high danger for me and high adrenaline for both of us. We resumed our high-intensity, high humiliation, high abuse activities with her lovers. I endured the physical abuse with enthusiasm and shrugged-off the psychological abuse as noise.

I shifted the focus of the physical abuse from my testicles to my mouth. I groveled before their genitals like they were gods to me, and licked and sucked their testicles and penises. Some of the macho men grabbed my head and fucked my mouth, often gagging me in the process. That was fine, it caused me no damage. I always stopped sucking right before they ejaculated, shifting their interest back to María. I wanted their semen, but I’d get it from María’s vulva later.

But some testicle abuse was always required, that’s what drove María’s excitement level. I placed her lovers’ hands over my testicles and squeezed, so they knew what to do. I wanted to avoid blows, they were much more likely to cause me unnecessary damage. The men were clumsy squeezers, and I faked greater pain than what I felt. I shook and convulsed and strained and cried-out as they squeezed at me. María soon became excited and would pull them from me to her. María must have known I was exaggerating, but she was OK with that – we had moved beyond pain and humiliation to the search for the man she wanted, who wanted her, the man who would castrate me. Mr. U&P would know who he was and what he should do, and my testicles would belong to him.

It became much like a show – my goal was to give the men the illusion they were better than me, could defeat me, the pathetic loser husband, and take her away from me. They lay in our bed, their fists around my testicles, because María thought they might be the special one. All they had to do was keep squeezing, harder and harder, nothing impeded them from crushing me.

I never thought any of these men was right for María, but I gave them the chance. An occasional man did try to hurt me, and I helped him, opening my legs wider, pushing my genitals at him. I passed-out a few times, but they never went all the way and caused no lasting damage. But most of the men just wanted to fuck her, and were happy to push me away me after a token humiliation raised their hormone levels to flashing red. María gave these men two or more chances at me, then discarded them.

When they left, it was my turn with María. I cleaned their semen from María’s vulva, vagina and body, then licked her to orgasm before fucking her. The cleaning was very sensual – I licked her throughly, and she was excited by my humiliation of cleaning another man’s semen. By the time my tongue hit her clitoris, she was an orgasm bomb waiting to explode.

I cleaned other men’s semen from María’s vulva since years ago in Guatemala. I never thought to ask myself seriously about why I always enjoyed this, I’m sure most people, especially men, would find that quite strange, if not outright perverted. In retrospect, I think I just manifested a general sense of personal inferiority. I thought other men were better lovers than me, they could please my wife better than me. I acknowledged their superiority. I enjoyed it, derived a lot of sexual pleasure from it, and was pleased my wife was still beautiful and slutty enough to satisfy my masochistic desire for deep humiliation.

Our search for Mr. U&P intensified for months, until interrupted by a pleasant surprise, a visit from Terri and Drew from San Francisco.

End of book content.

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